


Afterwards, 3/3

by sherlockcrush



Series: What do you mean alarming? [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkwardness, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockcrush/pseuds/sherlockcrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Takes place after the famous "Sherlock in a sheet in Buckingham Palace" in Scandal in Belgravia. Is Sherlock alarmed by sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterwards, 3/3

_“Now, I believe that you distracted me from my initial question earlier.”_  
  
 _“Which is?” John asks._  
  
Sherlock palms John’s cock through his pajama bottoms, steel eyes bright. “Do you want help with this?”  
\---  
  
John’s erection had not wilted at all while he focused his attention on Sherlock. Now, at the simple touch of the other man’s hand, it jumps almost painfully in his pants. He grunts softly and Sherlock smiles at the positive result.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes unless you say otherwise.”  
  
“After all that, you think I’d say no?”  
  
“Certainly not,” Sherlock says as if another answer would have insulted his mind.  
  
Sherlock shuffles a bit and pushes his pajama bottoms fully off of his legs. John has only a moment to consider the idea of a naked Sherlock Holmes in his bed before said man’s delicate hands reach for his jaw, holding him still as Sherlock kisses him.

No, forget kissing; this is plundering.

The kiss is raw, full of the emotions that John has always half-feared, half-hoped that Sherlock held in check under a carefully controlled exterior. The possessiveness that John felt before rushes up, pushing against his temples as he grasps Sherlock’s biceps tightly and returns the kiss with full fervor.  
  
When they break apart, they are both panting. John scrambles off the bed and pushes his pajama bottoms and pants down his legs. He stares for a moment down at his flatmate. There are so many things he is aching to do, and it takes a moment for him to focus. He shakes his head to clear it and Sherlock smirks, as if he can read his thoughts on John’s face. He reaches for his hard cock.  
  
John hisses. The feeling of Sherlock’s long delicate fingers wrapping around him is utterly exquisite. He groans and moves forward, swiftly covering Sherlock’s body with his own, nearly pinning him to the bed. Leaning on one forearm, he grasps Sherlock’s chin and runs his thumb over the pale skin.  
  
“I want to show you everything,” John murmurs. “Will you let me? Do you trust me?”  
  
“Yesss, John,” Sherlock hesitantly runs his hands over the plains of John’s back. To John, it feels like the other man is mentally mapping him, learning every angle, rib, and curve. When he gets to  the mass of scar tissue on his left shoulder, he pauses, his touch softening, becoming gentle.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” John says against his neck.  
  
“No. I wouldn’t expect it to. Any pain you feel now would be solely psychosomatic in nature. It is common for soldiers to feel spasms in cases such as yours periodically over a long period of time after leaving the battlefield.” He states this as if they are standing in a laboratory and he is making a point on a case.  
  
John snorts. He can’t help it. He’s never had a partner make clinical assessments of him while in bed. “And I’m the one being distracting?”  
  
John leans up on his elbows, hovering over him, staring down into those beautiful steel blue eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he shifts so that their cocks touch. Sherlock is already half-hard again and he inhales sharply at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed.  
  
John reaches between their bodies and grasps both of their erections in his hand. He balances on his left hand, watching Sherlock’s face, as he slowly rubs upwards. Sherlock digs his fingers into the sheets as he groans.  
  
“I take it you like this,” John says with what would have been a smirk had he not groaned softly.  
  
“Fuck,” Sherlock grinds out. His eyes open wide, pupils wide and dark. He shakily brings one hand up and touches John’s face. John wouldn’t call it a caress because it isn’t. Sherlock methodically runs the pads of his fingers over the angles of his cheek and chin. As before, John imagines that Sherlock is forming a mental picture, a map, of his body, memorizing every angle and curve. Sherlock runs his thumb over his lower lip, and all John can think of is that if this is mapping, then he would willingly become the other man’s atlas.  
  
“Yess, that’s right. Touch me,” John murmurs, eyes slipping closed. As Sherlock’s hand slips down to his collarbone, John opens his eyes and locks them onto the steel blue ones staring intently up at him. The hand runs down his chest and then those long fingers are joining John’s hand, wrapping around their erections. John groans and lets go, bracing himself above Sherlock, keeping enough space between their bodies.  
  
Now free to act on his own, Sherlock tightens his grip, eliciting a surprised grunt from the man above him. His eyebrows rise and he does it again. John throws his head back, eyes screwed tightly shut, and he moans.  
“I believe I enjoy seeing you like this, John,” Sherlock says, his voice soft and low and rumbling.  
  
“Keep doing that and you’ll see more,” John pants.  
  
In response, Sherlock moves his hand down to the base of their cocks, pressed deliciously pressed together. He pauses and then rubs back up until he can experimentally rub his thumb over the tips. They both groan.  
  
“Keep going,” John murmurs, ignoring the neediness that has seeped into his voice.  
  
Sherlock sets up a slightly jerky rhythm, his movements unpracticed but eager. Where other men would close their eyes and abandon themselves to the pleasure, Sherlock focuses his energy on John, watching his face, noting every moan and grimace, the way that he lips part just a bit as his head tilts back. His hand’s movement on their cocks becomes more sure. He discovers that rubbing his thumb over the tip of John’s cock makes him cry out in a way that almost sounds as if he’s in pain. He does it again, revelling in the knowledge that now, at this moment, he is the one making the mild-mannered and soldierly Doctor John Watson rut against him like an animal in heat.  
  
“Sherlock! I’m going to - “  
  
Sherlock groans softly and speeds up. He silently urges John on, willing him to come apart. Suddenly, John’s eyes open and he stares down into Sherlock’s. He’s so...intense. Sherlock gasps and can only continue, caught in his eyes.  
  
John cums with a grunt, fingers grasping the sheet on either side of Sherlock’s head. He spills out over Sherlock’s belly in three long spurts.  
  
Sherlock is actually surprised when he comes a second time. He rarely surrenders to the primal urges that distract other people. He is...supposed to be above such urges. Still, his body shudders in sympathy with John’s orgasm and his cock manages to spurt a bit more seed to mix with John’s on his skin.  
  
John collapses and rolls onto the mattress next him. They both pant, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“Was that helpful? For your hypothesis?” John finally says breathily, licking his well-kissed lips.  
  
Sherlock looks down his body, noting the cooling seed on his pale skin. He frowns. Must sex be so messy?  
  
“Yes, John. I do believe that this served as a sufficient introduction to sexual relations.” He turns to John and smirks.

John laughs. Sometimes his life is simply too bizarre to believe. Having Sherlock Holmes as a flatmate has been exciting, challenging, and sometimes maddening. John thinks that now he’ll have to the word ‘pleasurable’ add to that list. He sighs happily and meets turns to meet Sherlock’s eyes.


End file.
